


a sweet treat

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Daisy And Her Huge Crush On Coulson, F/M, Food Sex, Future Fic, Grocery Shopping, POV Alternating, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy and Coulson go grocery shopping together, and Daisy has A Moment, involving strawberries, chocolate and Coulson's fingers.





	a sweet treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



“You seem to be in your element,” Coulson points out, as Daisy is choosing from the fresh bread samples.

They’re buying groceries in one those those upscale, very-organic supermarkets in a shopping mall downtown. It’s Mack’s birthday but he and Elena are stuck in a stupid surveillance mission, stuck in a safehouse on the other end of town and Coulson had the idea of going to keep them company and cook for them tonight. Daisy immediately volunteered to help, of course. Things have been - well, not quiet, as life in SHIELD is never quiet, life as Quake even less so, but things have been at least quieter. After coming back from the future, and after Coulson iced her and then they all almost died trying to save earth, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that they are living quieter times, yes.

And she is trying to get things back on track, to talk to Coulson as before, even though she’s now technically his superior. And she’s been too busy (god, she thinks she hasn’t seen the light of day like this for months). She’s missed him. Misses having a moment between the two of them that is not about discussing a mission or handing each other paperwork. It has been lonely.

“The things I could teach you,” she comments, almost nostalgic for a life she has no reason to be nostalgic about.

“Tell me.”

He looks serious.

And well, it’s not about discussing a mission or paperwork.

“I might need the knowledge someday,” he adds.

Daisy snorts. “You? Why? Are you planning on going on the lam soon?”

“Who knows,” he comments dramatically.

She rolls her eyes slightly and lets it go.

“Eating for free _one day_ in one of these places is easy,” she says. “The trick is how to turn this into a regular source of free food for your young homeless gal.”

“Did you do this much?” Coulson asks, pushing the shopping trolley along.

Daisy shrugs. 

“Enough times to know you have to buy something _every time_ if you don’t want to be barred from the place,” she says. “Buy something that tricks the staff into thinking that you _could_ afford the food, you just love trying samples. It’ll still be cheaper than the food samples. But if it looks fancy, the better. I usually bought some extravagant new drink.”

“I see.”

She doesn’t want to bum Coulson out with her story. Being poor and without a place to crash in wasn’t fun. she also doesn’t want Coulson to pity her. She goes through other tips lightly, the ones about using a friend’s shower to wash your hair well before coming to the shop. borrowing some clothes, the trick is making the staff think the food samples are definitely _not_ the only meal you’re going to get that day.

“If you have some spare money buy from one of the samples you try, that way you look like they really inform your choice and you’re not just-”

“Trying to con the shop into giving you a free meal?” Coulson finishes. He doesn’t seem scandalized by her immoral ways.

“Yeah, oh bread,” she gets distracted by a new sample table. This time unattended - the best ones - so no one can hear her rant about how to take advantage of the shop. “Bread it’s the best way of doing this, it’s filling and you can eat a lot of it and not look suspicious under the excuse that you are trying sauces, or oil, or… what’s the other thing?”

“Balsamic vinegar of Modena?” Coulson offers, going for the sample himself.

She smiles teasingly. She knows from his file (and some of his behavior) that Coulson didn’t precisely grow up knowing what balsamic vinegar of Modena was, for all his fancypants-ness now.

“What about this?” he asks, pointing at another samples table, this time for desserts.

There are strawberries, bright red, almost as big as Daisy’s fist, and some liquid chocolate to dip them in.

“Talk about fancy,” Daisy says, drawn to the food anyway.

Perhaps it is only now that she’s is what she calls her “grand old age” that she appreciates the charm of simple fresh fruit, but she grabs one of the strawberries quickly, hungry and she covers it with a generous amount of chocolate.

The taste is almost a little too sweet but she hasn’t tasted much apart from base food lately, so she devours the treat shamelessly.

“Good?” Coulson asks. He seems amused. Maybe because she kind of teased him about being having expensive tastes one moment ago.

“So good,” she manages to say between bites.

She eats a second strawberry, and it’s a good thing they are actually going to buy a lot of stuff here, because that’s the kind of behavior that could land you on a persona-non-grata list.

“You have something,” Coulson says, and before Daisy can understand what he means he is already reaching his hand to her face, wiping excess chocolate from her mouth with his thumb. The gesture is carried out simply, but it feels too much like intimacy to Daisy, or enough to jump-start a kind of longing that reminds her how lonely she has been, without noticing it, how long since she’s had this kind of intimate physical contact - she’s hugged friends, of course, offered and received comfort. But this feels different, because it feels lighter, casual, matter-of-factly. 

Coulson doesn’t mean it like that, of course. For him it’s not an intimate touch, it means nothing to him.

“Thanks,” Daisy says, bringing her finger to her lip, embarrassed to think she might still have some chocolate on her face.

Then she watches in fascination as Coulson pushes his thumb into his mouth, licking the traces of chocolate he got from Daisy’s lips. She blinks, feeling like she is having some kind of out-of-body experience watching this. He licks his lips, too, relishing the taste of the chocolate that up until a moment was all over Daisy mouth. 

She freezes. It’s kind of… obscene, if she thinks about it.

She doesn’t think any of her boyfriends has ever done something so publicly, uh, sexy. Much less someone doing the stuff without the intention of being sexy at all, like Coulson just now.

Daisy scratches the back of her neck absently, her clothes suddenly uncomfortable and itchy. She’s pretty sure she presses her lips together, even licks them, unable to stop herself, but thankfully Coulson either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t think anything of it.

“Any more tips?” he asks, oblivious to the effect his gesture has had.

“Mmmm… yeah, sure, but… we should probably finish shopping first.”

He nods, and they do.

 

+++

 

“What’s this?” he asks, seeing the strawberries and the mugs of chocolate lined up on a tray next to his (their? he can’t be sure just yet) bed.

Daisy hurries him inside her bunk, as she closes and locks the door behind them.

“I wanted to do something special for Valentine’s Day. It’s our first one.”

Coulson shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“I imagined you were the kind of person to care about this stuff,” he says.

Daisy smiles, almost - yeah, it’s almost patronizing.

“But you are,” she tells him, putting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing.

She’s decorated the room, though not entirely in a classic fashion. Instead of candles (he could see why Daisy wouldn’t like to leave those unattended in a small space) she has set a bunch of those cheap tiny led lights that are so fashionable nowadays. They twinkle all around them.

There is not just food on her desk, but also a bottle of champagne. Daisy proceeds to pour a couple of glasses.

“You didn’t have to go to all the trouble, if you don’t enjoy Valentine’s,” he reminds her.

They hadn’t talked about it, but Coulson assumed that she wouldn’t want to make a fuss for his sake, she gets understandably skeptic of this kind of fake celebrations. He wants to tell her that anything feels romantic by her side, that she doesn’t have to comfort to an idea of what he likes or dislikes. Even though yeah, he’s the kind of person who buys all this capitalistic crap and wants nothing more than buy flowers and fancy chocolates and listen to Chet Baker records while laying on a bed covered in rose petals all day long.

“It’s not like I hate it or anything, don’t worry,” Daisy, putting his doubts to rest. “I’ve just never seen the appeal, you know.”

He takes a sip from the champagne. It’s not very good. Which of course makes the whole thing even better, more romantic to him.

“Just don’t push yourself,” he repeats.

Daisy puts down their glasses and begins to undo the buttons of his shirt. Coulson tilts his head, trying to read her face. It’s not that Daisy is not aggressive sexually - she is, and for a myriad of reasons (a sense of control, to mask her insecurities, because she knows he likes it), but she not often straightforward about it. It suits Coulson’s passive nature in bed, but he wonders why this feels different.

She undoes two, three buttons and parts the collar of his shirt, exposing the top of his chest. Like an eager and insecure teenager he always takes mental stock of the body parts Daisy seems to favor: she likes his chest.

After loosening his shirt she runs her fingers, briefly, over the hair, but then she pulls back, simply satisfied with that fleeting touch.

“Also this is a reward. You’ve been a very good agent,” she says, in that fake-Directorial tone that reminds Coulson of nights spent in her office, her voice intimate and commanding, and Coulson can’t help but slide into the mood immediately. He lifts his hand to her hip, playfully fidgeting with the hem of her jeans in appreciation. “A good agent and a good…” she hesitates. “Boyfriend?”

Coulson nods, pleased with the epithet.

Daisy smiles, encouraged. They don’t trade definitions too often, but well, it’s Valentine’s Day, it seems like the perfect day to indulge in the b-word.

“Sit,” she says, nodding towards the bed, and he obeys.

Coulson takes one of the strawberries in his hand. Daisy has gone to the trouble of buying them big and fresh.

“Why this?” he asks, referring to the choice of strawberries and chocolate in particular.

“Remember Mack’s birthday? When we went to buy groceries together and tried all the samples?” Coulson nods. He remembers very well. “There was a display with strawberries and chocolate and we tried them, and you wiped some chocolate off my mouth and ate it.”

“I remember that,” he says, trying for a flirty tone. Somehow with Daisy he gets self-conscious about his flirting skills. Because he cares so much. And because she seems like she should be so out of reach for someone like him.

“That was the first moment when I thought…” she searches for the words, with a dreamy faraway expression on her face that Coulson is a bit satisfied with. “ _Wow. This guy_.”

“This guy? That’s romantic.”

“I didn’t need the romance,” Daisy explained. “I’d been in love with you practically since the moment you first took me on a ride on your flying car. I just needed a little push to see you as something more than… than just _Coulson_.”

He watches her face, suddenly curious about the process she’s describing. They don’t talk too much about their feelings for each other from before they became a couple - understandably, their relationship had always been complicated, and there were elements (their professional status, the age difference) that complicated it even more so. They don’t do revisionist history from before that dynamic turned romantic, sexual, and for the most part they pretend there was never any previous indication that it could be come that. But they both knew it was just that, pretending.

“And the chocolate was that push?” he asks.

Daisy nods, drawing closer.

That makes sense, he thinks. She kissed him for the first time not long after that incident. Somehow Coulson had missed the fact that they were related. Which annoys him a bit, leaves him wondering if things would have come to a head between them sooner if he had notices. He’s greedy for those weeks they could have spent together.

“Come on, try it,” Daisy says, as she takes a very inelegant swing at the champagne glass.

She sits by his side on the bed. Obviously her small room is not a luxurious setting for such a meal, but he wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.

Coulson closes his lips around the strawberry, licking the chocolate first, taking his time to bite off a piece of the fruit. He’s done this sort of thing before, with other partners, but with Daisy it becomes exciting and new all over again.

“Don’t lick your lips,” Daisy orders. She’s just as bossy in a sexual situation as anywhere else.

She brings her thumb to his mouth, wiping the excess chocolate herself.

Is this what she was thinking when he did it to her? Back in that shopping mall? He has trouble believing it, that Daisy could think of him in those terms, he’s still adjusting to that, even after so long.

Daisy pushes his chocolate-stained thumb into her mouth. He’s sure the noise he makes can be heard across the whole base (not that he cares).

“Mmmm,” Daisy moans approvingly as she licks her finger clean.

God, he thinks. God, he wants to kiss her so badly.

It’s ridiculous, because he _could_ kiss her, almost at any time in any place he wanted to. But now he’s possessed by an almost physical pull to her.

Did she think about kissing him back there, in that shopping mall? The idea gives him mixed feelings, but mainly he feels like all his clothes itch all of the sudden, and then no, it’s actually his skin, like his body is too small to contain his desire and love for Daisy in this moment.

He stays there, rooted to the spot, staring at Daisy’s lips, until she takes pity on him and grabs him by the back of the neck, aggressive in that way he likes, mouth colliding with him, kissing him hard until he can taste the chocolate - until it’s all he can taste.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says, pulling back, fingernails scraping his nape, making him shiver in anticipation.

Coulson takes a moment to find his voice, pressing his lips together trying to retain the taste. 

The little twinkling lights Daisy has put up all over the room keep dancing in the edge of his vision.

“You didn’t have to do all this just for me.”

“I didn’t.” A shrug. “I’ve never really had a proper Valentine’s, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“And…?” he asks.

Daisy smiles, pressing her other hand against the hollow under Coulson’s neck.

“It’s fun,” she declares. “Given the right company.”


End file.
